Of Latkes and Tradition
by iwillalwaysbeyourlight
Summary: After being kicked out of Finn's house over babygate, Quinn is forced to spend the holidays with the Puckermans.


**Disclaimer: This _Glee_ fanfiction is based upon the television show of the same name. All characters and situations other than my own are sole property of Ryan Murphy Productions and 20th Century Fox Television.**

Quinn stood at the window, watching as little white flakes fell from the sky and danced their way down to the blanket of snow that had already accumulated on the ground below. Lights of every color twinkled from a neighbor's roof, reflecting off of the snow and casting a warm, inviting glow into the dark night. The snow was familiar and comforting, like an old friend that came by to visit her each December. She knew exactly what it would smell like if she stepped outside, crisp, clean and a little bit like cinnamon mixed with pine. She could describe just how her cheeks would prickle and sting as the wind blew the freezing flakes and they melted against her warm skin. Snow was always the same no matter what and Quinn appreciated that, _needed_ that, because everything else in her life was suddenly drastically different and she wanted something to hold on to.

It was less than a week until Christmas but there was no fire crackling downstairs, no tree wrapped in white glistening lights standing tall in the corner of the living room, its branches heavy with ornaments that told her family's story. The sweet scent of sugar cookies baking in the oven was replaced with the smell of hot oil and potatoes. It wafted into the room from the kitchen below, immediately causing Quinn's stomach to flip and turn uncomfortably. Latkes. She despised them, mainly because they were greasy and left her suffering through hours of horrible, burning indigestion but also because every bite made her feel like the life she was living was no longer her own. As stupid as it may have sounded, she fiercely resented the latkes and that last candle on the Menorah she knew was waiting to be lit downstairs, as if they were somehow responsible for the destruction of the life she once knew and loved. Like it was their fault she was stuck spending Christmas at an unfamiliar house observing a religious holiday that was not her own. Hating the latkes and everything they stood for wasn't going to make things any easier for her. This whole mess was _her_ fault, at least partially, and this was her new life now. She was going to have to figure out how to like it.

"Dinner's ready," Puck's voice shook her from her thoughts.

"Hmmm," Quinn hummed in response. "Alright, I'm coming."

"You don't have to eat them, you know." He offered when he noticed her rubbing her stomach like it already hurt. "Just eat the brisket and applesauce."

Quinn shook her head and pursed her lips, determined. "It's the last night of Hanukkah and it's important to your mother. She already looks like she wants to cry every single time she sees me, the least I can do is eat her damn latkes."

"Whatever," he shrugged, muttering something about how fucking stubborn she was. "Suit yourself."

"Fine," Quinn stopped to look at her reflection in the mirror and plastered a Fabray smile that was as fake as it was bright to her face before joining Puck in the doorway. "I will."

* * *

_Damn latkes._ It was the first thing she thought when she awoke in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, feeling so incredibly nauseated she couldn't even see straight. She quickly untangled herself from the covers and darted for the bathroom, practically tripping over Puck who was sound asleep on the floor.

"Ugh," Quinn groaned, acid still burning the back of her throat as she knelt beside the toilet. Turns out she hated latkes even more the second time around.

"You okay in there?" Puck asked, banging on the door

"Go away, Puck." She managed to growl before another wave of nausea hit her and she was reduced to a gagging mess.

She heard him push open the door and wanted to yell at him to get lost, that she didn't need his help. But then he was holding her hair and rubbing her back in this sort of adorably awkward way she was sure he intended to be comforting and she wasn't sure she wanted him to stop.

"Shit, Quinn, I told you not to eat the damn latkes."

"Really helpful," she retorted when she could finally speak again, her voice laced with sarcasm.

Puck shrugged unapologetically. "Well, was all that worth whatever little bit of satisfaction you gave my mom by eating them?"

"Yes," Quinn spat back, even though what she really meant was no.

"Here," he stood, wetting a washcloth in the sink and handing it to her before joining her back on the tile floor. "You've got a little…" He indicated the side of his mouth.

"Thank you," she said sheepishly, wiping at her lips with the cloth.

"S'okay. Sometimes mom's cooking makes me sick too," Puck smirked.

Quinn smiled weakly at him. "Yeah?"

He nodded, tentatively reaching over to push a stray strand of sweaty hair off of her forehead and then stroking her cheek with his thumb.

_No, no, no._ She pulled away from him, a knee-jerk reaction. She was vulnerable, emotional, and hormonal and he was, well, Puck. It was the perfect storm combination that had gotten them into this mess in the first place. "I just…"

"It's okay, I get it."

She expected him to get up and leave because she had totally shot him down but he didn't move. He just sat there on the freezing cold tile floor, _being_ there for her in a way that no one else had in a very long time.

"Puck..." she whispered, tears she didn't know she had pooling in her eyes because she was feeling everything at once and it was just too much for her to bear.

"Shhh, it's okay." He soothed, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close to him. "I know life sucks."

Quinn was entirely too tired to disagree with him, so she just buried her face in his shirt and started to sob. She was sixteen, pregnant, and living out of a suitcase. Life totally sucked.

"I really miss my family," she hiccupped after a long while, completely prepared for him to come back at her with some rant about how much of an ass her father really was.

He didn't. "You want to be with them for Christmas."

Quinn looked up at him through her bleary eyes. "So much so that it physically hurts."

"What would you be doing for Christmas if you were home with them?"

"Going to Christmas Eve service," she answered immediately. It was by far the most important part of the Fabray family Christmas.

"Alright," he nodded, "so we'll go."

"What?" She furrowed her brow. "You're crazy."

"You just ate greasy latkes that made you puke you guts out for Hanukkah. The least I can do is go sit in a pew with you for a few hours."

"No," Quinn told him firmly. "That is by far the nicest thing anyone has ever offered to do for me, but church is honestly the last place I want to be with this." She placed both her hands on the hard swell of her abdomen. "I just can't deal with everyone staring at me and my sins right now. I get enough of that at school."

Puck actually looked a little disappointed. "So do you want a tree or something instead? I can get you one. I'll even pick up one of those snow globe things they always have for sale at the front of the grocery store that play fifteen different Christmas songs."

Quinn smiled softly and shook her head. "No, thank you. It's not about the stuff so much as it is the people and traditions and that's just not going to happen this year. Everything has changed and I'm just going to have to find a way to be okay with it."

Puck grinned mischievously. "So does that mean you're okay with eating latkes again for dinner on Christmas Eve?"

Quinn groaned, elbowing him playfully in the side. "Ugh, that's not funny. I think the baby legitimately hates them or something."

"Yeah," he agreed, "well, she is only half Jewish."

* * *

It was almost seven o'clock on Christmas Eve. Quinn didn't smell any latkes frying in the pan, something she took as a very encouraging sign. She was stretched out on the couch in the living room, tracing lazy circles on the surface of her belly with the tip of her finger and marveling at the miracle of it all. Before, she'd always been too pissed and resentful to appreciate what her body was doing, but that day, with her mind close to Mary, the baby girl inside her felt every bit as special and miraculous as the baby boy born in Bethlehem.

"You're going to do amazing things one day," she whispered, laughing softly when her hand was met with a well-timed kick. "I just know it."

The baby had just recently started to kick and tumble within the confines of Quinn's womb, making her presence known throughout the day. She suddenly felt so much more _real_ and it made Quinn desperately regret the many times early on that she had prayed the baby would just disappear from her life forever.

"I don't hate you, you know," she continued for the benefit of no one but herself. "You just deserve so much better than us."

It struck Quinn that this was it; this would be the only Christmas she would spend with the baby, with her daughter. The realization made her ache somewhere deep within her soul. She needed to do something, _anything_, to make it special and the only thing she could come up with was to sing. So she hummed the first few notes of Silent Night before softly starting in on the first verse.

She made it through all of four lines before the gigantic lump in her throat forced her to stop.

"Merry Christmas, little one," she managed to whisper, smoothing her hand over the left side of her belly where the baby had a tendency to lay.

"Hey," Puck started, causing her to jump.

She wiped at her tears with the back of her sleeve. "Oh, hi," she paused. "How much of that did you see?"

"Enough," he said, briefly lifting Quinn's feet from the cushion they were occupying so that he could sit beside her. "Are you okay?"

She normally loathed that question, but Puck sounded like he actually wanted to know the answer. "Yeah, I'm alright."

He eyed her suspiciously. "You're miserable."

"I'm not," she answered quickly, too quickly. "It's just…I don't know." She looked down at her stomach and then up at him.

He nodded, "I know."

She wasn't sure he did know. How could he possibly know? But then he looked at her, his eyes carrying a sadness of their own, and she immediately knew he felt the enormity and hurt of their situation every bit as much as she did.

_This was it._ For the both of them. For the three of them.

"Would you like to feel?" Quinn asked him suddenly and Puck looked at her like she had three heads. "She's kicking and I don't think you've ever felt before." She _knew_ he had never felt before because she'd always swatted his hand away.

Puck's eyes lit up. "Really?"

She nodded, taking his hand and placing it on the spot just above her belly button. "Just there."

He grinned widely as he felt Quinn's taut skin roll beneath his palm. "Damn, there's really somebody in there."

She laughed. "Yeah, there is. Pretty cool, huh?"

"The coolest," he agreed, rubbing soft circles on the swell of her abdomen with his thumb. "Thank you."

Quinn smiled and leaned towards him, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. "Merry Christmas, Puck."

"Merry Christmas, Quinn."

They spent the rest of Christmas Eve like that, curled up on the couch together, Puck's hand resting next to Quinn's on her belly. They watched Elf and ate frozen pizza and gorged on red and green M&Ms. There was no tree or Christmas Eve service or fancy dinner. All the traditions that had felt so important to her just a few days earlier seemed insignificant and suddenly her world felt a little bit more okay.

**PROMPT:** Quinn/Sam, Quinn/Puck or Quinn-centric: snow globes and silent nights

**Authors love feedback, if you enjoyed this story please let me know!**


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